


Hocus Pocus

by weesta



Category: Hocus Pocus (1993), Supernatural
Genre: Disney remix, Gen, Halloween, Remix, Sam is smart, Teen Winchesters, dean is smart, don't light the candle Max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weesta/pseuds/weesta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam are in over their heads when a virgin lights a candle on Halloween night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fill for a super_Disney challenge I did in 2012 on LJ. I thought Halloween was the perfect time to bring it over to AO3.

Normally Dean wasn't one to pay much attention in English class, particularly during the last period of the day on a holiday, but in spite of her wacky witch get-up Mrs. Weyner caught his attention with her retelling of the legend of the Sanderson sisters. Dean was probably the only one taking notes; the rest of the class, though listening attentively, seemed familiar with the story and didn't need to jot anything down. Scattered among the doodles that he'd started off making at the beginning of class were the names of the witches – Winifred, Mary and Sarah – their related powers – spell casting, tracking and summoning respectively – and Winifred Sanderson's final words:

_On All Hallows Eve when the moon is round_

_a virgin shall summon us from under the ground_

Even as he jotted it down Dean shook his head to himself – that particular scenario had disaster written all over it.

Mrs. Weyner continued speaking through Dean's musing. "No one knew what became of Thackery Binx those 300 years ago. Some say, that on Halloween night a black cat still guards the old Sanderson house warning off any who might make the witches come back to life."

Dean was as surprised as everyone else when the other new kid in the class mumbled, "Gimmie a break." Clearly Max was not as practiced as Dean was on blending in at a new school and flying below the radar. Dean had been in school a day or two when Max arrived. Max broke the first cardinal rule of "new kid" by choosing a seat next to a pretty girl instead of in the back of the class like Dean had. He broke the second cardinal rule by talking about California all of the time and dressing like he still lived there; tie-dye was not the way to go in Salem, Massachusetts. And now, here he was, drawing attention to himself by scoffing at local folklore – strike three.

Dean absently doodled a gruesome jack o'lantern as Max blithely explained how "everyone knows that Halloween was invented by the candy companies.

"It's a conspiracy!" he stated emphatically.

Dean was surprised when Allison, the pretty blonde, jumped in. She got Dean's attention. "It just so happens that Halloween is based on the ancient feast called All Hallows Eve. It's the one night of the year when the spirits of the dead can return to Earth." And just like that…she lost Dean's attention. It must be nice to live in a bubble where there's only _one_ night a year when spirits can roam.

In another surprise move that made Dean wonder if the kid was just that clueless or completely ballsy, Max got up out of his seat in front of the whole class to give Allison his phone number. He even fed Alison a corny line – "Give me a call if Jimi Hendrix comes back."

Dean had to give Max a little credit for throwing Hendrix in there, but anyone who was paying any attention could see that Allison was way out of Max's league.

The bell rang sparing everyone from watching Max further embarrass himself, but Max and the Sanderson sisters stayed on Dean's mind as the class was dismissed and he headed toward the junior high school to pick up Sam; a new kid with something to prove and a local legend to test himself against on Halloween was not a good combination. What was worse was that Dad had his hands full with tracking down local Puckwudgies which was the reason they were in Salem in the first place. Dean didn't want to distract Dad with hunches and hormonal teenagers, particularly if it came to nothing and made him lose ground on the hunt he was already in the middle of. No, it'd be better if Dean kept an eye on the situation himself. It looked like he and Sammy would be going out for more than candy this Halloween.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had to give the people of Salem, Massachusetts credit – they did Halloween right! Every house as far as you could see was decorated to the nines. Candy was given out in full-size bars, and homemade treats were lovingly packaged in colored plastic or decorated paper. Not that he and Sam had a lot of Halloweens to compare it to; when they were younger and Dad was hunting on Halloween – and Dad was always hunting on Halloween – they stayed in once the sun went down. But with Dean nearly old enough to graduate and Sam old enough to take care of himself, Dad loosened the reigns a little. They didn’t have to stay locked in the house as long as they stayed together.

The weather was surprisingly mild considering how far north they were. Combined with a full moon and Halloween falling on a Friday night, the streets were packed with trick-or-treaters. They hadn’t been in town long enough for Sam to fall in with a group of friends, and he was feeling a little too old to be going door to door for treats while being babysat by his brother, but Dean wasn’t about to miss the opportunity for free candy even if he had plans for later. Sam refused flat out to get “dressed”, but when anyone asked he just said he was the kid from Free Willy; it was enough to get door-answering adults off his back.

The Winchesters started trailing a group of kids around Sam’s age so he could follow them up to the porch while Dean lurked on the sidewalk. Dean kept an eye on their surroundings while Sam scored a ridiculous amount of candy while earning points with his quiet “thank you ma’am”s and flashing his dimples. They had just started working on a new block when a small skirmish caught Dean’s eye.

It was that kid - Max; he looked like he was in over his head with a group of jerks from the high school when his little sister started spouting off about the damage her big brother was going to do to them. Dean was debating whether or not to get involved when Max grabbed his sister and broke away from the gang surrounding him. It didn’t look like the tough guys were going to do more than mock Max from a distance which was good because he had his hands full dealing with the little girl, apparently named Dani, who had burst into tears and thrown herself under a bush. Dean collected Sam and kept moving down the block.

By the time they circled back to work the opposite side of the street, Max and his sister had finished their heart-to-heart and continued their own trick-or-treating. They disappeared inside what could only be described as a mansion in the middle of the block, but when they came back out they’d added a third member to their party. Allison, the girl from class, was now traveling with them, but she wasn’t in costume. She was wearing jeans and a light sweater. That got Dean’s attention, not just because he couldn’t believe that Max actually made a successful move on a girl who was so obviously out of his league, but because he knew Max had something to prove and he was pretty sure how Max was going to try to do it.

“Let’s go, Sammy!” Dean called out gesturing to Sam to move along.

Sam heaved a sigh. “It’s _Sam_ ,” he corrected with an eye roll.

Dean nodded like he heard him, but dismissed the argument with a wave of his hand; the kid was never not going to be “Sammy” to him.

They were traveling on foot because Dad had the car, but it wasn’t difficult to keep the trio ahead of them in sight. While they were walking, Dean filled Sam in on his suspicions about Max trying to show off at the Sanderson House and what little he knew about the Sanderson sisters. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Sam knew even more about the local legend than Dean had picked up on in class.

“They were into some seriously heavy magic, Dean.” Sam explained. “My teacher said that of all the “witches” who were killed during the Salem Witch Trials, the Sanderson sisters were probably the only ones who were the real deal…and what they were up to was so bad that that’s why people freaked out and overreacted like they did just drowning and hanging women all over the place.”

Dean’s brows drew down into a frown. His teacher hadn’t been so forthcoming with information. “What did they do?”

“Oh, the usual stuff at first. Putting hexes on their neighbors, making crops die and cows lose their milk.” Sam recited the Sanderson’s misdeeds matter-of-factly. “But the legend says that Winifred Sanderson, the oldest sister, made a deal with the devil himself…he gave her a spell-book bound in human skin that contained his most powerful and evil spells. That’s when things really got bad.”

“My teacher said that Winifred was obsessed with wanting to stay young and beautiful forever. She and her sisters had just managed to make the potion that would give them immortality when the townsfolk were alerted. Once the Sandersons were arrested and dragged out of the house the constable found the drained and decimated corpse of Emily Binx right there in the chair in the middle of the room. They never found the body of her brother, Thackery.”

The conversation carried them up to the gates of the lane leading to the Sanderson house. Suddenly Dean was feeling uncomfortable dragging Sam along for this trip. Back in the afternoon when the sun was out and Dean was doodling in class, this investigation didn’t seem like a big deal, just something he thought they could check out before heading home to pig out on Sam’s candy; but the additional information from Sam was giving Dean second thoughts.

The trio up ahead of them was making their way up on to the porch and into the small house that had been turned into a museum devoted to the Sanderson legend. Dean could feel his insides twist with anxiety he didn’t want to recognize, but there was no way to get Sam all the way home and still have time to prevent Max from doing whatever stupid thing he had in mind in order to impress Allison.

“Listen, Sammy,” Dean grabbed Sam by the jacket to get and hold his attention, “chances are good that the only thing that’s going to happen in that house is that a dumb guy will do something scary to startle the cute girl into jumping into his arms.” Sam rolled his eyes expressively.

“But…if anything else happens, you keep your head down and let me take care of it.” Sam looked mulish but didn’t argue.

“Fine,” Sam mumbled. “Then can we go home and have something to eat? I’m starving.”

Lights went on in the cottage up ahead. The Winchesters stopped talking and together moved down the lane toward the house. Max and the girls had left the door ajar when they entered. Dean could hear Allison reading to the little girl about Winifred Sanderson’s book. She seemed to have the same information that Sam had shared earlier.

As they walked toward the steps of the porch, Dean could see Max moving away from the girls further into the house. Then Max began reading aloud as well. Dean heard something about “the fat of a hangman” but it was the rest that sent uncomfortable chills down his spine.

Max’s voice drifted out from the interior of the main room. “Legend says that when lit on a full moon the Black Flame candle will raise the spirits of the dead when lit by a virgin on Halloween night.”

Max moved away from the candle’s plaque just as Dean and Sam got to the door. “So let’s light the sucker and meet the old broads,” Max suggested.

Dean pushed the door open wide. The movement and noise got the girls’ attention and they gasped in surprise. “That’s an epically bad idea, dude.”

Max was frozen with lighter in his right hand raised toward the candle when a black cat came out of nowhere, jumped hissing and yowling on his shoulder and scared the crap out of everyone. Max fell to the floor, grabbed the cat and threw it away from him yelling, “Stupid cat!”

As Max climbed to his feet, Dani released Allison from the death grip she had around the older girl’s waist and declared, “Okay Max, you’ve had your fun. It’s time to go.”

Dean thought it was funny that the smallest member of their group was making the most sense, but he did agree with her.

Allison chimed in, “She’s right, Max. Let’s go.”

Since the girls were already heading for the door Dean had no problem ushering them along. He stepped further into the room giving the girls a wider avenue toward the door. He smiled and winked at Allison. “Can I walk you home, sweetheart?”

In retrospect Dean could see that flirting with Allison was exactly the wrong move to make. Allison’s shy answering grin as she pushed her hair behind her ear was a response that Max was trying to elicit. It was no wonder that Max became desperate to get the focus back on him.

“Oh come on!” he called out. “It’s just a bunch of Hocus Pocus.”

_*snick*_

Dean was in motion before Max flicked the wheels of the lighter, but in his gut he knew he wouldn’t make it across the room in time. He shoved himself between the girls pushing Dani into Sam and launched himself at Max, but he would swear that he saw the wick of the candle stretch and lean toward the gleaming glow in the lighter to take the flame onto itself.

Dean caught Max’s wrist in his hand and lifted it high just as the flame on the candle solidified and turned from golden yellow to dense black. They looked at each other and eloquent, California-dude Max uttered, “Uh-oh.”

One by one all of the electric light bulbs overloaded and exploded. Dani let out a little scream and jumped at each one. By the time the last one burst she had burrowed herself under Sam’s protective arm. A sourceless wind stirred up loose papers inside the main room and slammed the door shut; it blew Allison’s hair in every direction and knocked Dani’s witch hat clear off of her head.

With no discussion, Dean gave Max’s arm a yank and started steering him toward the door when sickly, green light began to shoot up from beneath the floorboards. Max stumbled backward as the wooden slats in the floor began to shudder and shake beneath them. Everyone had trouble keeping their feet beneath them as the very ground below the house undulated in waves.

With no warning the wind and the waves ceased. For a moment no one moved. Then Dani disengaged herself from Sam and picked up her hat.

“What happened?” Max asked the room at large.

Dani gave him a disdainful look as she perched her hat back upon her head. “A virgin…lit the candle.” Dean almost laughed out loud when Dani and Sam cocked their heads simultaneously and gave Max the stink-eye.

Just as quickly as the electric lights exploded earlier, suddenly every candle in the room sparked and exploded into to yellow flames. The logs in the fireplace roared to life moments before the wood beneath the cauldron in front of Max and Dean burst into flame pushing them back. And eerie cackle split the night echoed by the sound of two others rapidly approaching. The door to the cottage blew open – Allison jumped to one side, Sam and Dani to the other. Dean and Max dove for cover behind the table holding the book.

Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The adrenaline rush of the hunt was not totally new to him, but he had three civilians and Sam ( _Oh God, Sam!_ ) in play and no Dad as backup. Dean ruthlessly drew his thoughts together and forced himself to focus. First rule of the hunt – know your enemy. Well, he was shit out of luck on that score; he didn’t know anything more than what he heard in class and what Sam told him on the way in.

Cautiously Dean peered around the table to get a look at the newcomers. Though they entered together, one of the witches was already making her way around the room and getting reacquainted with her things. The black haired one called her Winnie, so the red headed witch who moved with so much purpose was Winifred Sanderson, the oldest of the three. While her sisters were dancing and wandering she had already honed in on the black flame candle and mused aloud wondering who had lit it.

The eldest witch’s circuit took her close to the candle but then she was distracted by the sight of her book under glass. Winifred came uncomfortably close to where Dean and Max were crouched; fortunately for them she was so engrossed by her book that she didn’t notice them. The sing-song voice she adopted when talking to the book was disturbing.

Dean was rapidly trying to catalogue the weapons he had at hand and what would be most effective for distracting, confusing or containing the witches when the black-haired one approached the book as well.

“Winnie…” she softly lilted.

“Yes,” the eldest replied.

“I…smell…children!”

_Oh shit. The tracker, Mary Sanderson._

All at once Winifred was refocused, her voice was excited. “Sic ‘em!” she ordered her sister.

Mary circled away from the book and around the cauldron, calling out updates as she progressed. “It’s a little girl…seven, maybe eight…and a half.” Dean could feel Max tensing beside him. “And a boy…” Mary sniffed the air again. “Mmmm…thirteen?”  
The third sister, Sarah, squeaked with delight.

Dean risked peeking around the stand again. The witches were in a pack with Mary in the lead heading toward the counter where souvenirs were sold. When she stopped moving she gestured, pointing over the counter to where Dean knew Sam and Dani were hiding. His heart lurched uncomfortably in his chest.

Winifred called out, “Come out, my dears, we will not harm thee.”

Mary was less inclined to coddle. “We love children!” She slapped the counter hard enough to make it rattle. Dani popped up, again under Sam’s protective arm, but she held her chin up and faced the mess her brother made bravely.

“I thought thou’d never come, sisters.” Dani proclaimed. Dean had to give the kid credit – she had guts.

If Winifred was taken aback she played it off well. “Greetings, little ones.” She smiled at Dani, like an auntie indulging a favorite child at play, but the eldest Sanderson looked differently at Sam; like she recognized something in him that she couldn’t place. That look was unnerving. Dean returned to scanning the room for anything that could be used as a weapon.

“T’was I that brought you back.”

“Imagine…” Winifred exchanged a glance with Sarah. “Such a pretty, little…child.” Sarah couldn’t contain another squeak of glee.

Mary made her way around the counter. Sam moved in front of Dani, but Mary was fixated on the little girl. “And she’s so well fed.” Mary reached around Sam and poked Dani’s arm. The little girl shrieked in alarm and jumped back, though she kept a hold of Sam’s jacket. The black haired witch attempted to poke Dani again, but this time Sam was quicker. Mary wasn’t deterred; even though Sam blocked her from making contact with Dani the witch chuckled at each squeal she elicited from the frightened girl.

“Shish-ka-baby!” Mary continued. Sam backed away from Mary keeping Dani behind him, but Winifred and Sarah boxed them in on the far side of the counter. Dean was starting to get frantic as Winifred smoothly separated Dani from Sam and settled the little girl on a high-backed, throne like chair. He and Max wouldn’t be able to remain hidden much longer and he had no solid plan of action.

“What is the year, little one?” Winifred asked as she walked around the chair to Dani’s left.

Dani gulped and shot a glance at Sam. There didn’t seem to be any harm in answering with the truth. “Nineteen ninety-six.”

“We’ve been gone 300 years, sisters!” There was a note of amazement in Winifred’s voice.

“Time flies…when you’re dead!” Mary laughed and the sisters joined in. The three of them moved in a swirling circle around the frightened little girl. Sam couldn’t manage to get through the trio, and then suddenly they stopped.

Although Mary Sanderson was the trio’s tracker, she seemed to have a bit of guard dog in her as well. Because of where she ended up, Mary had neatly trapped Sam between Dani’s chair and the wall even as she returned to teasing the girl. The other two were on either side of the chair.

Dani, sensing that the situation was taking a turn, tried to bluff her way out of the chair stating, “Well, it’s been fun, but we’d better be going.”

“Oh, do stay for supper,” Winifred insisted as she pushed the girl back into the seat. Sarah curled to her knees before the girl and stroked her neck.

“I’m…I’m…I’m not hungry,” Dani stammered as she tried to pull away from Sarah.

“But we are!” Winifred declared.

_Oh shit! They’re not teasing!_

Sarah sprang up and picked Dani up out of the chair and off of her feet. Sam yelled out in protest, but couldn’t get past Mary. Sarah looked like she was going to toss Dani head first into the cauldron over the crackling fire. The little girl was struggling and screaming all the way. Dean was too slow to stop Max from jumping to his feet; if nothing else, the dope would be good for a diversion.

“Hey! Let go of my little sister,” Max demanded.

The witches froze in surprise and then turned toward Max. Sarah dropped Dani’s feet, but didn’t relinquish her hold on the little girl. Mary had Sam’s arms pinned and growled over her shoulder, “Roast him, Winnie.”

Sarah seemed transfixed by the presence of the young man. She took half a step forward and pleaded, “No…let me play with him.” The look in the blonde witch’s eyes was demented and Dean pitied any dude who spent any time “playing” with her.

Dean could see that Winifred was winding up for something. He sprang out of hiding and tackled Max before he was nailed by a jolt of electricity let loose by the red haired witch. Winifred cursed at the miss.

“Another boy!” Sarah crowed. She clapped in delight.

“You grab your sister and run!” Dean ordered Max as he hauled the two of them to their feet. Dean whirled to face the witches and gave Max a healthy shove to the left hoping to create enough distance between them to spare Max from getting hit by the pulse of power Winifred aimed at the two of them. Dean lost sight of the other teenager as his orientation changed from vertical to horizontal; from flat on his back all he could see was the ceiling.

Dean tried to remember how to suck in oxygen while he struggled to make his unresponsive limbs do something other then flail. Although his lungs weren’t working, his brain couldn’t stop racing and all he could think about was where Sam was in all of this mess. Suddenly Winifred Sanderson filled Dean’s field of vision.

“You…” she pointed at Dean with a knobby finger. “There.” she commanded. Although Dean’s body wouldn’t follow his commands, it responded to the witch’s.

After he slid across the floor and crashed face first into the wall Winifred crowed gleefully to the others, “I haven’t lost my touch, sisters!” Dean had a moment of utter clarity.

_I hate witches._

Winifred twirled Dean around but her power kept him pinned to the wall. He quickly tried to survey the rest of the room. Max and Mary seemed to be having a tug-of-war over possession of Dani. Sam was trying to help free Dani as well, but the middle sister was build like a linebacker; she had no difficulty maintaining a headlock on Sam while making Max work for his sister’s freedom.

“Hello,” Winifred cooed drawing Dean’s attention back to more immediate concerns. Her eyes were wide and falsely welcoming. Sarah, who had relinquished possession of the little girl when there was a much more tempting young man in play, stepped in far too close on Dean’s right side. Dean supposed that the youngest sister would be considered the prettiest of the three with her hip-length fall of blonde hair and rockin’ body, but the utter lack of humanity in her gaze made Sarah the creepiest of the three witches to Dean. Winifred had the drive, Mary had the strength, but Sarah was just downright disturbing. Dean couldn’t pull away as Sarah laid her head on his shoulder and ran a possessive hand from his throat to his chest. He shuddered at her touch.

Winifred’s gaze narrowed at Sarah’s actions as well. “Good-bye,” she growled. Winifred gave Sarah no warning before hurling another bolt of energy at Dean. Sarah squeaked and leaped away. Dean would’ve been inclined to thank Winifred for getting him away from her sister, but he was in too much pain. There was a fire in his gut where the pulse of the witch’s power was aimed. Dean could feel his feet leave the floor as Winifred’s power pushed him upward against the wall.

_Oh God! Not the ceiling!_

Dean’s panic gave him strength, but his struggles were useless against the energy pinning him to the wall. There was nothing to grab onto to prevent his relentless upward motion, and the power coursing through his body made his limbs unresponsive even as his heart thundered at an uncomfortable pace.

From his vantage point, Dean could see Max win the tug-of-war with Mary. With his momentum, Max pulled Dani so hard they practically flew out the door. Dean was relieved to see them go, but Mary still had a hold of Sam. Then out of the shadows, like a blonde avenging angel, came Allison. With a cast iron pan in hand she called out to get Mary’s attention and then bashed her in the head. The blow was hard enough to stun the witch and she let go of Sam.

Dean’s heart leaped. He tried to yell at the both of them. “Run!”

Either they didn’t hear or were simply ignoring him. Sam dodged away from Mary, scooped up Dani’s abandoned bucket of Halloween candy and ran at Winifred swinging for the fences.

“Let go of my brother!” he screamed.

Winifred turned at the distraction and got a face full of orange plastic. Dean fell to the floor. The wind would’ve been knocked out of him by the fall if there had been any air in his lungs. Sam continued his assault by turning in an arc and smashing Sarah in the face just as hard as he hit Winifred. A shower of candy fell through the air.

Sam’s momentum turned him again, but Winifred was waiting. With an angry curse she latched onto Sam. Once again the black cat appeared out of nowhere. This time, the cat hung on, scratching and biting the witch. Winifred screamed, released Sam and back pedaled away from where Dean was slumped against the wall. Sam took advantage of the pandemonium and ran to Dean’s side.

“C’mon Dean! Let’s go!” Sam urged Dean to move while hauling him to his feet. Dean leaned against the wall and took in a steadying breath. Mary was slowly climbing to her feet and Sarah was ineffectively trying to free Winifred from the cat. They needed a distraction and Dean had an inspiration.

Running for the front of the cabin, Dean scooped up Max’s fallen lighter from the floor. “Go! Go!” he insisted pushing Sam toward Allison and herding them both in the direction of the door. Allison instinctively gravitated toward Sam as someone younger in need of protection, but Dean knew that Sam would take care of Allison if the witches made it outside. Dean let Sam pull ahead knowing Sam thought Dean was just a step behind him.  
Dean climbed up onto the counter Sam and Dani had hidden behind and then scrambled to pull himself up into the loft.

Winifred and Sarah finished scrapping with the cat and Mary was climbing to her feet. It seemed like without Winifred’s direct instructions the other two were at a loss for what to do; it was something to keep in mind.

“Hey!” Dean yelled. The three witches turned toward him. “You have messed with the great and powerful Dean! Now you must suffer the consequences.”

Sarah and Mary looked confused, but Winifred glared at him speculatively.

“I summon the Burning Rain of Death.” Dean flicked open the lighter and sparked a flame to life. All of the witches gasped in shock.

“He has fire in his hands,” Winifred whispered, astonished. Her response gave Dean hope; if she bought into this charade the others would follow.

Dean moved his hand until the flame was directly under the smoke detector that was affixed to the ceiling. Immediately the system responded and water began to spurt from the sprinklers situation all around the room.

The witches’ response was gratifying. They all shrieked in horror. Mary and Sarah turned in circles. Winifred yelled over and over, “The Burning Rain of Death!” while running for cover. Then she ran back into the fray berating her sisters for being idiots and urging them to take cover as well. They followed her like ducklings under the protection of the loft on the far side of the room.

Dean jumped down from the alcove and landed with a satisfying thud. He would’ve made a stellar exit if he hadn’t slipped on the slick floor and landed flat on his back. The black cat appeared yet again and pounced gracefully onto Dean’s chest.

“Nice going, Dean.”

Dean could feel his eyes go wide as he gasped, “You can talk!”

“No kidding,” the cat replied sarcastically. “Now, get the spell book!” Dean could only stare mutely. The events of the night had finally caught up with him and his brain would not let him comprehend a talking cat.

The cat hissed and swiped a paw at Dean’s face. “Move it!”

It was enough to break Dean’s paralysis. He rolled to his side and climbed to his feet. Dean skirted around the cauldron and grabbed a free-standing plaque. Winifred screamed in dismay as Dean smashed the glass of the book’s display case. “My book!”

Dean ignored her cries and pounded on the glass until he could free the book. The touch of the thing made his skin crawl, but he tucked it up under his arm like a football and ran for the door. Outside, Sam called out from the top of a hill over to the left. Without a glance behind, Dean ran for his brother, and then with Allison in the lead they sprinted as fast as they could away from the Sanderson House.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean wasn’t sure how it happened. They had started out with Allison in the lead; it was her town, she grew up in Salem. Then somehow, Dean was leading the pack, except really…he was following the cat. Dean started to breathe a little easier when he heard the sound of sirens responding to the “fire” at the museum, and the cat led them to a more populated area. Dean wasn’t really watching where they were going until the cat came to a halt.

The ornately decorated wrought-iron gates got Dean’s attention. “Whoa! Whoa! This is a cemetery.”

The cat responded, “This is hallowed ground. Witches can’t step foot here.”

Dean didn’t have time to argue the accuracy of the lore because Allison and Sam were goggling at him. “What? He can talk.” Dean shrugged like talking cats were commonplace.

The cat slipped between the bars of the gate. “Follow me. I want to show you something so you know what we’re dealing with.”

Sam and Allison followed the black cat through the entrance. Dean was rather surprised that Allison didn’t cut and run. They were only a few blocks from her house. She could easily walk away – which Dean should encourage – but she’d been an asset so far and clearly had a mind to see things through. Dean followed them through the opening and closed the bars behind him.

Dean caught up to the others just as the cat leaped up onto a headstone that looked like a carving of a Jolly Roger flag. A skull and crossbones decorated the stone above the name. “William Butcherson? Lost soul?” Dean read aloud.

“William Butcherson was Winifred’s lover. She found him sporting with her sister Sarah so she poisoned him and sewed his mouth shut with a dull needle so he couldn’t tell her secrets even in death,” the cat explained.

Allison jumped in, “You’re Thackery Binx!”

The cat dipped his head, “Yes.”

“So the legends are true.” Allison’s voice was tinged with awe.

Binx wasn’t inclined to make small talk. “Come along! I want to show you something else.”

The humans followed Binx further into the cemetery. He paused at another, simpler headstone. This one needed no explanation; it read “Emily Binx”. Thackery stood quietly facing the stone. Sam and Dean shared a glance. Sam settled himself on the ground facing Thackery. Dean sat closer to the stone facing away. Allison perched on a fallen log close to Dean.

Thackery turned and sat facing the humans. The headstone made a haunting backdrop for the conversation.

“Emily…my little sister.” Binx had to clear his throat but Dean was sure it wasn’t a hairball that had him choked up. “My sister’s life was stolen. For years I waited for my life to end so that I could be reunited with my family, but Winifred’s curse of immortality kept me alive.”

“Then one day I figured out what to do with my eternal life. I failed Emily but I would not fail again. When Winifred and her sisters returned, I would be there to stop them. So for three centuries I guarded the house on All Hallows night when I knew some airhead virgin might light that candle.”

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes at Max’s blunder. “Well, we’ve got to deal with the mess Max made,” Dean stated rising to his feet. Thinking back on how freaked out the witches were by the sprinkler system gave him confidence. “We’re talking about three ancient hags versus the 20th century. How bad can it be?”

“Bad.” Binx answered. Then he shouted at Allison, “Stay out of there!”

Dean glanced over and saw Allison guiltily shut the cover of Winifred’s spell book. “Why?” she asked.

“It holds Winifred’s most dangerous spells. She must not get it.” Binx stated.

This was something Dean could handle. He marched over to where Allison was seated and took the book out of her lap. “Let’s torch this sucker.” He took out the lighter and sparked a flame. Dean dropped the book onto the ground and crouched down to hold the fire close to the binding. An invisible force prevented the flame from making contact with the book.

“It’s protected by magic,” Binx explained.

A cackle from overhead got everyone’s attention. Dean scrambled backwards, instinctively trying to cover Sam as Winifred dove toward the trio. It seemed that Binx’s lore was right, at least for these three witches – they remained airborne on their brooms and did not land on the cemetery’s ground.

“Boo-oook!” Winifred yodeled a command. “Come to me, Book!”

Dean cursed under his breath. He left the book out in the open. The grotesque thing started to rise off of the grass at Winifred’s call.

Binx took matters into his own hands. “Afraid not!” He pounced on the book pushing it firmly back onto the ground.

“Thackery Binx, you mangy feline! Still alive?” Winifred taunted.

“And waiting for you!” Binx shot back defiantly.

“Thou have waited in vain. Thou will fail to save thy friends just as thou failed to save thy sister.”

Binx hissed at the witch. She growled back at him.

“Grab the book!” Binx yelled, but Sam was already ahead of him and had scooped up the tome. Winifred seeing the object of her desire escaping yet again yelled out orders to her sisters. Sarah flew down into their path while Mary circled around from the other side.

“Boy…” Sarah made a beckoning gesture at Dean. “I’ll be thy friend.” As much as the youngest witch repulsed Dean, he could feel himself being drawn to her. He couldn’t break eye contact and was unable to stop himself from moving forward. _The summoner…she’s the summoner. Shit!_

Dean dimly head Winifred yelling from a distance that Sarah was calling the wrong boy. Then Allison stepped forward waving a fallen branch with maroon leaves in Sarah’s face. “Get lost!” Allison screamed.

Dean could feel his self-control snap back into place and was once again impressed with the moxie of the local girl. The three of them regrouped. Both Dean and Allison covered Sam as Mary dive-bombed them. As they scrambled back onto their feet Dean yelled, “Make for the trees!”

With Binx in the lead they ran back to a section of the cemetery that was more heavily wooded giving them more cover and the witches less room to maneuver. They ended up close to the spot where Binx brought them when they first arrived.

Dean scanned the sky. Sam gulped in deep breaths of air. “They can’t touch us here, right?”

“They can’t…” Binx replied.

Sam frowned. “I don’t like the way you said that.”

The witches regrouped in the air facing the young humans and Winifred started speaking. But the eldest witch’s words were not for them. The ground swelled and heaved beneath them. Dean, Sam and Allison tried to stay on their feet, but the best they could manage was to fall together against a large memorial until the earth stopped shaking. Winifred’s powerful spell called forth Billy Butcherson from his grave.

Dean had done a fair amount of monster hunting with his father, and he’d seen a lot of scary shit. But watching Billy Butcherson’s reanimated corpse rise from its grave made his blood run cold. The shriveled flesh that still clung to the bones was mottled and grey and its clothing hung in tatters but the thing was strong enough to punch through the remains of its coffin as well as the earth still resting upon the grave.

Dean did not waste any time sitting around. He scrambled to his feet, hauled Sam up by his jacket and pulled Allison up off the ground. Binx yelled, “This way!” Dean pushed the others ahead of him keeping half an ear on Winifred’s shrieked instruction and the other half on the sounds of a zombie shuffling after them. Binx led them to a small opening in what looked like a hill. Sam scrambled right in and Allison was close behind.

Dean could hear the sounds of pursuit – Butcherson wasn’t swift, but his gait was steady. The zombie shuffled through the trees following the path they had so recently taken. Dean would swear, in the light of the full moon, it almost looked like there was reason in the creature’s eyes. For a moment Dean wondered if Billy felt as compelled by Winifred as he had been by Sarah, but whether or not he pursued them by choice if it came down to Sam or compassion for a zombie, Sam was going to win every time.

When Billy was close enough, Dean let loose the tree limb he had bent back. It was a perfect shot, connecting squarely with the zombie’s head. Much to Dean’s surprise, the blow knocked the head clean off the shoulders. Unfortunately, the lack of a head didn’t stop the zombie. It just started groping around looking for its lost body part. Dean was disappointed that this one piece of zombie lore that he thought was rock solid seemed to have no merit, but maybe there were different rules in Salem.

Dean left the zombie behind him and dove through the hole Sam and the others had disappeared through. He came up coughing while asking “Is everyone alright?”

Sam and Allison both responded in the affirmative. Dean looked around the dim space. He took out Max’s lighter – the thing was coming in awfully handy – and flicked a flame into life. The lighter didn’t provide much illumination, but there was enough to see the bones descending through the ceiling above them.

“Don’t look up,” Dean warned Allison.

Allison resolutely kept her eyes forward. “No problem.”

“Where are we?” Sam asked Binx.

“This is the Old Salem crypt. It connects to the sewer and up to the street. I’ve hunted mice here for years.” Binx was matter-of-fact in his answer. Allison’s face wrinkled at the mention of mice but she didn’t make a vocal complaint.

“We should keep moving,” Dean urged. “That zombie is still behind us and we need to get help.”

Sam shot Dean a look. It didn’t need to be said that they were in over their heads and “help” meant bringing Dad into this mess. Sam just nodded his head, tucked the book under his arm and followed Binx. Dean was afraid that finding help would be easier said than done.


	3. Chapter 3

Of course finding Dad was easier said than done.   When was it ever easy to track John Winchester when he was on a hunt?  Not that Dean didn’t understand; Dad thought he and Sam were safe and sound and in sugar comas after scoring a ridiculous amount of Halloween candy while Dad was hip deep in Puckwedgies somewhere to the south.  The creatures had a dumb name but they were vicious and extremely dangerous.  If Dad wasn’t answering his phone they’d better hope it was because he was busy, not because he was dead.  But that was something Dean couldn’t even contemplate at the moment.

At the moment he and Sam and Allison and Binx _were_ safe and sound.  Sam was stretched out on Dean’s bed with Binx for company, while Dean and Allison shared a comforter tucked and sat tucked into the window seat.  Allison was cuddled against Dean’s right side.  It was a feeling he would’ve liked to enjoy, but he was still too wired from the night’s events.  As Sam, Allison and even Binx’s breathing evened out as they fell asleep, Dean replayed everything over and over in his mind unable to prevent himself from dwelling on how things might have gone horribly wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they got out of the sewer there was a lot of running around, evading the zombie and witches, and a huge argument with Sam.  After escaping from the witches at the Halloween bash being held at town hall they had darted into an alley behind a restaurant.  It seemed that they had temporarily shaken Butcherson and the witches from their trail, but with Mary on their scent, that wouldn’t last for long.  Dean figured it was as good a time as any to see that Sam and Allison got to safety so Dean and Binx could work out a way to destroy the book.  But Sam wasn’t having any of it.  He was determined to stick it out, to stay with Dean.  Dean ordered him to go with Allison back to her house, but Sam got that stubborn look on his face and dug his heels in.

They were interrupted before things got really heated because the witches tracked them down.  They dove into the shadows; Dean and Sam ducked behind a stack of crates and Allison crouched behind an old-fashioned iron stove.  Binx just melted into the darkness.  Dean couldn’t prevent himself from pinning Sam to the wall with a soccer-mom arm, as if pushing him into the bricks was somehow helpful.  The Sandersons, with Mary in the lead, stalked into the alley.  Mary was turning her head from side to side like an old hunting dog.

“I smell….I smell…”

“Yes?”  Winifred was desperate in her urging.

“I smell…scrod.”  Mary hung her head in shame and Winifred howled in frustration.

Dean exhaled softly.  He could feel Sam relax slightly beside him.  The witches walked away arguing, though Sarah gave the alley one last penetrating look.  She opened her mouth as if she knew they were there and was going to call them forward. Dean tensed.  He knew that if she gave the command he would be helpless and obey.  But then Winifred called for her and Sarah scampered to heel.

Dean let out a true sigh of relief.  Allison pushed forward from her hiding place and inadvertently caused the door to the oven fall open with a heavy clang.  The three of them froze anticipating that the witches would follow the noise.  When no one appeared Sam and Dean started to move forward again.  Allison grinned over the open oven, “I have an idea.”

Dean had to admit, not only was Allison spunky and beautiful, she was a stone-cold genius.  Leading the witches into the walk-in kiln at the high school was an idea that was perfect in its simplicity.  Once again, twentieth century technology triumphed over seventeenth century understanding of the world and they were able to trick the witches into the instrument of their doom.

The satisfaction that Dean felt when he hit the button to fire up the kiln was unmatched in his experience.  Watching those witches burn and knowing that they had done good for the town of Salem was almost as rewarding as knowing that Sam was safe. 

With the book in hand they made their way out of the high school.  Once he hit the open air, Sam seemed to loose his mind.  He jumped and whooped with glee, and then he started running in circles; literally, running in circles.  It was like a pressure valve had been released.  Allison was feeling much the same way and joined right in.  She and Sam ran together, gave each other high-fives then joined hands and spun around in a circle until they fell to the grass breathless and dizzy.

Dean watched their antics with a smile on his face.  He wasn’t a joiner, but he could appreciate their elation from a distance.  Binx leaped up to a branch close to Dean’s head.  He too watched the celebration.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for 300 years.  Since they took Emily.”

Dean turned slightly to address him.  “You can’t keep blaming yourself for that.”

Binx tilted his head in dismissal, and then turned his world-weary gaze to those cavorting in the grass.  “Take good care of Sam, Dean.  You’ll never know how precious he is until you lose him.”

Dean didn’t reply.  His jaw clenched and he tried not to call up the memory of the Shtriga.  As usual, he failed to banish the vision of the monster leaning over the bed and drawing the life out of Sam.  Dean took a deep breath and aggressively brought his thoughts to the present where Sam was acting like a fool and giggling like the kid he was.

Dean folded his arms tightly across his chest around the book.  He heard Binx shifting on the branch and was surprised to feel a paw lightly patting his head.  Binx stretched out resting his paw on Dean’s shoulder and spoke softly into his ear.  “I see you’ve already learned how precious your brother is.”

“We’re all here.  The witches are gone and the job is done.”  Dean nodded as if that was that.

He pulled away from the tree and started to walk toward where Sam and Allison were helping each other up off the grass.  Binx landed softly beside him and started to walk away.

“Hey!” called Sam.  “Where do you think you’re going?  You’re a Winchester now!  Let’s go home!”

Dean looked down at the cat.  He had a pretty good idea about how Dad would react to Sam asking for a pet, let alone an immortal cat.  He could just imagine how that conversation would go.  _So Dad…when you were out hunting we were pretty busy too. I managed not to get Sam killed and we picked up the spirit of kid in the 300 year old body of an undying cat.  Can we keep him?_

Dean snorted as he envisioned the look on Dad’s face.  It wasn’t like he wasn’t already going to kill him for dragging Sam into all of this.  Why the hell not throw a pet into the mix?  Binx had already proved himself as a hunter, hadn’t he?  Dean smiled and nodded for Binx to join Sam.  The cat happily ran ahead and twined himself around Sam’s ankles.  When Dean reached the group he caught Allison’s hand in his own and together they headed for home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean opened his eyes as Allison shifted against him.  He blinked, surprised that he had fallen asleep.  Allison gazed up sleepily at him.  “Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Dean replied.  It was not his usual snappy rejoinder, but they’d had a long night.

Allison stretched and reached behind Dean to pull the clock closer and look at its face.  She sat up in alarm.  “My parents are going to kill me!  I should go!”

Dean’s eyebrows raised.  The clock read 5:00 am; her parents probably were going to kill her.  Allison threw off the blanket and Dean shivered at the influx of cool air.  She walked across the room to get her cardigan, and when she turned back her gaze landed on Sam under a mess of blankets and Binx stretched out above his head sleeping soundly.

“Poor Binx,” she sighed.

“Yeah, we owe him a lot.” Binx had saved their bacon many times over.  Without his help they probably wouldn’t even have made it out of the Sanderson house alive.

“Maybe we can find some way to help him.”  Allison continued.  “The book?” She raised her eyebrows speculatively at Dean but didn’t give him time to respond.  She scooped up the book from the chair where it was sitting and sat back down next to Dean in the window seat.  “The witches used it to put the spell on him, maybe there’s a way to take it off.”

Dean was uncomfortable with this line of thinking.  His newly developed hatred of witches extended to the book they used to do their nasty work.  “Binx told us not to open it.”

Allison shrugged.  “The witches are dead.  What harm can it do?”

If Dean hadn’t been so fuzzy headed from waking up with a beautiful blonde in his arms or delirious from a serious lack of sleep he would’ve been more firm in his response.  But they were safe at home, Sam was sleeping five feet away and the witches had been burned to ash.  What harm could it do?

Dean shrugged his assent. Allison unclasped the binding and opened the book.  When she turned back the front cover both of them tensed, but nothing happened.  Allison gave a nervous laugh, “See?  Nothing weird so far.”

Just having the book open gave Dean the heebie-jeebies.  If the binding was made of human skin, he really didn’t want to know what the pages were made out of.  Allison was skimming the pages quickly; she seemed genuinely focused on finding a spell to free Binx, not browsing to see all of the nasty things the witches used against their neighbors.

“Hey, look at this,” Allison tucked her hair behind her ear as she leaned closer and read aloud.  “Only a circle of salt can protect thy victims from thy power.”

“Huh.”  That was a good piece of information to have.  Dean didn’t realize that salt would be effective against witches as well as spirits; since witches were humans he never thought salt would be a weapon of choice against them. 

Allison readjusted the book preparing to turn the page.  They were both startled when Binx leaped from the bed onto the book.  His claws were extended and he swiped his right paw at them as he used the left to hold the page down.

“We were just trying to help you,” Allison exclaimed.

“Well don’t!” Binx retorted.  “Nothing good can come from this book!”  He sheathed his claw and poked both of them for good measure.  “You got it?”

Abashed, Allison closed the book and returned it to the chair.  “I guess I should go.”  Dean rose when she did, and Binx returned to Sam’s side glaring at them as they walked out the door.  Allison paused at the top of the stairs to pull her sweater on.  Dean poked his head into John’s room, but the bed hadn’t been slept in; that was expected.

Allison frowned slightly.  “Something’s not right.  I sure would feel better walking home with some salt.”

Dean smiled as he led the way down the stairs.  The girl was smart, beautiful and remarkably un-freaked out by all of the weirdness that had happened overnight.  She was even willing to listen to her gut and apply newly learned information even if it made her look like a dope when she was walking home.

He might be in love.

Allison leaned against the kitchen counter as Dean retrieved the salt.  He was glad she wasn’t following his actions, that way he didn’t have to explain an entire shelf devoted to salt and other not-easy-to-explain items.  He dropped the container of salt into Allison’s hands.  She made a show of reading the label.

He turned and rested against the counter next to her.  He leaned into her shoulder and prompted, “What does it say?”

She smiled a teasing grin and responded, “Form a circle of salt to protect against zombies, witches and old boyfriends.”

Dean caught Allison’s eye.  “What about new boyfriends?”

Allison’s smile was shy, but inviting.  Leaning in to kiss her was as natural as breathing.  But just before their lips connected there was a loud _thud_ from above.  Both of them pulled back and looked up.  Even if he fell out of bed, there was no way his brother made that noise.

“Sam!”  Dean bolted for the stairs.  Allison was half a step behind him, also calling Sam’s name.  Together they burst into the bedroom; it appeared to be unchanged.  Then Allison gasped.

“Dean!  The book is gone!”  Allison turned around with a worried expression on her face.  “I’m telling you…something’s weird.”

Dean wasn’t inclined to doubt Allison’s intuition or waste time talking about it.  He strode toward the bed.  “Sam!  Wake up!”

Pulling the covers off of the lump on the bed, Dean was startled when it revealed not Sam, but Sarah Sanderson.  “Trick or treat!” she shrieked.

Dean jumped back, his heart in his throat.  The doors to the double closet slid back to reveal the other witches.  “Looking for this?” Winifred held up her spell book, and then gestured to Sam held tight in Mary’s grip with her meaty hand covering his mouth preventing him from yelling out.

“Or this?”  Mary held up her right hand containing a burlap sack.  There was no movement, but Dean was certain that Binx was trapped inside.

Dean lunged toward the dresser hoping to get his hands on something useful, anything he could use as a weapon.  Winifred opened the book and a ball of green energy shot out.  It was even more concentrated than the power the witch had used on him earlier.  The pulse hit Dean so hard it threw him across the room and into the wall.  As Dean struggled not to black out he could vaguely hear movement, and Winifred talking to Allison.  He waited for the next blow to fall, but it never came.

Darkness engulfed Dean, but it wasn’t as black as the despair sitting deep in his chest.

_ Sam! _

An indeterminate amount of time later, Allison was at Dean’s side urging him to move and pulling him into an upright position.  “Are you okay?”

Dean pushed her hands aside.  “Where’s Sam?”

Allison was slow to respond and Dean’s heart sank.  Together they got Dean to his feet.  He rubbed his face and blinked to clear his vision because he was still seeing stars. But it turned out there was nothing wrong with his vision, he actually was seeing stars; the witches had literally blown the roof off when making their escape.  Dean stumbled to the hole in the wall and looked out into the street.  For some reason, none of the neighbors were responded to the explosion; that was weird but not Dean’s priority.

An eerie, lilting melody carried on the air to where Dean and Allison were standing.  It was Sarah – she was summoning.  Allison grabbed Dean’s hand and held it tightly, but for the first time he felt no compulsion to respond to the witch’s call.  Maybe he was too old, or maybe his rage fueled his resistance, but he had no response to Sarah’s song other than the urge to rip her freakin’ head off.

One by one, doors up and down the block opened and neighborhood children in their pajamas stumbled out into the street.  They seemed about as animated as Billy Butcherson and were unresponsive when Dean shouted out trying to warn them.

Beside him, Allison gasped and pulled on his hand.  “I figured it out!”  Dean shook his head uncomprehending.  “When you were unconscious Winfred said ‘The candle’s magic is almost spent.  Dawn approaches.’  The Black Flame Candle brought them back only for this one Halloween night.  Unless they can steal the lives of children, when the sun comes up they’re dust!”

Dean looked out into the street where dozens of children shuffled forward.  All of them were walking toward their deaths unless they could stop the witches.  He shook his head again, “How can we make the sun come up?”

Dean thought back over the events of the night.  More than once ingenuity and twentieth century technology had bested the witches.   It was time to manufacture a miracle.

He turned to make sure Allison was on board with him.  “Let’s go get Sam.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean’s admiration for Allison grew when she didn’t bat an eyelash as he hotwired a neighbor’s car.  He also appreciated the fact that she wasn’t a backseat driver; it was hard enough weaving his way through the sleepwalking children in the street without having a co-pilot making unnecessary chit-chat.  Once they outpaced the somnolent herd, Dean was able to hit the gas, but he could not outrun his racing thoughts.

_ We have enough time.  I wasn’t unconscious long enough for them to get anything done.  They still have to brew the potion and that takes time.  We’re in a car, and they’re waiting for the kids to arrive on foot.  We have enough time.  They haven’t done ANYTHING to Sam. _

Dean rolled into the driveway of the Sanderson house and quietly came to a stop.  He jumped out of the driver’s seat and Allison took up her position.  Dean crouched and snuck up to the window near the rear of the porch, trying to get a lay of the land and see where the witches were positioned.  He could hear Winifred talking, she was awfully proud of herself.

“Soon the lives of all of thy friends will be mine and I shall be young and beautiful forever!”

“It doesn’t matter how young or old you are, you sold your soul!  You’re the ugliest thing that ever lived, and you know it!”  Hearing Sam’s voice as he argued with the witch was such a relief that Dean had to steady himself against the wall.

“You’ll die first,” Winifred growled.  The threat put steel in Dean’s spine, and he headed for the door.

“The potion is ready.  Open his mouth!” Winifred ordered.

“Sam! Don’t drink it!” Binx shouted out.  Hearing the cat’s voice was a relief to Dean as well.

Dean passed by the window closest to the door.  Mary and Sarah had closed in on Sam who was tied to the chair where Emily Binx died.  Mary cried out, “He bit me!” and Sarah was hopping around in pain from a kick that connected with her shin.  But Dean’s biggest concern was the ladle full of glowing, green potion that Winifred was trying to get past Sam’s tightly closed lips.

Dean kicked the front door open and announced, “Prepare to die…again!”

The witches looked up in alarm.  Sam was relieved, but kept his mouth shut.  “You!” Winifred yelled.  “You have no power here you fool!”  She hadn’t stopped trying to push the potion on Sam, and Mary had moved behind the chair to hold his head steady.

“Maybe not,” Dean yelled, trying to engage Winifred.  “But there’s a power greater than your magic…and that’s knowledge.”

Dean could tell he was getting Winifred’s attention.  Knowledge was her strength and she prided herself on knowing more than everyone around her.  But it wasn’t enough to take her focus off of Sam and Mary was now working on forcing his jaws open.

In desperation Dean resorted to a schoolyard taunt. “There’s one thing I know that you don’t!”

He let it hang there praying that Winifred would take the bait.  She stood up straight, bristling with irritation – finally, her focus was on Dean and not Sam.  “And what’s that?” she demanded.

Dean flashed a signal to Allison behind his back.  “Daylight Savings Time!”

The witches looked confused, and then the room was flooded with pink light from the east.  Both Sarah and Mary shrieked in alarm and ran toward Winifred.  The three of them stared in horror out the window as they backed away from the cauldron toward the shadows in the rear of the room.  Dean rushed forward and slipped a utility knife from his jeans’ pocket.  He cleanly sliced through the ropes binding Sam.  Sam didn’t waste a moment; he jumped out of the chair toward the burlap sack hanging uncomfortably close to the fire.

With Binx in hand the Winchesters ran for the door.  Dean turned before exiting and delivered a solid kick to the cauldron spilling the noxious green potion across the ancient, wooden floorboards.  The red-headed witch watched with hatred in her eyes even as she pulled her huddled, screaming sisters closer.

Dean turned and ran out the door.  Allison was futilely whistling an alarm – he probably should’ve made sure she could whistle before making that the signal – and waving her arms like a pinwheel urging him to move faster.  Dean ran around the front of the car and peeled the red gels off of the headlights.

The drive back to town was a nightmare in slow motion.  The spellbound children of Salem had made their way nearly to the witch’s lair.  Dean had to weave around them on the road knowing all the while that Winifred would soon see through his trick and would soon be after them.  At least he had destroyed the potion so none of the potential victims was actually in danger.

“Are they following us?” Dean asked intently.  He picked up speed as they cleared the main group of children heading toward the house.  He tried to keep his eyes on the road while watching the rear view mirror. 

Sam flattened himself against the backseat and looked up at the sky.  “No.”

“Good.”  Allison smiled and patted Dean on the leg.

Without warning, Winifred swooped down on the driver’s side of the car and smashed the back window spraying Sam with broken glass.  Allison and Sam yelled in alarm.  Dean instinctively swerved to the right shouting, “Bitch!”

Dean righted the car back in his lane. Winifred swooped in again reaching for Sam in the backseat.  “I will have what’s mine!” she threatened.

Dean rolled down his window until he could reach out and grasp the end of Winifred’s broomstick.  He pulled her forward and landed a very satisfactory punch on her jaw.  She lost her equilibrium and careened out of control into the trees.

Sam whooped in the backseat, but Dean did not share his elation.  “Stay down, Sammy!”

Their time was limited before Winifred and the other two regrouped.  Driving around until dawn actually arrived wasn’t a feasible option.  They needed to hunker down, if not someplace safe, at least someplace where they had an advantage.

Dean headed back toward the cemetery.

With a squeal of breaks Dean stopped the car as close to the wrought-iron cemetery gates as possible.  Binx shouted, “Hurry! Hurry!” as Dean barked, “Go! Go! Go!”

Binx leaped through the bars and took the lead.  Sam and Allison were hot on his heels.  Dean grabbed the bag of supplies and made sure the cemetery gate was shut firmly behind them. He turned at top speed hastening to join the others on the path toward the little hill when he crashed into Billy Butcherson and bounced off of him, landing on his ass.

_ Jesus Christ!  I forgot about the zombie! _

Crab walking backward, Dean tried to put some distance between himself and Butcherson.  All too soon he could feel the iron gate against his back - nowhere to go.

“Dean!”

“Run, Sammy! Run!”

Dean fumbled into his pocket and pulled out his utility knife.  It seemed a pitiful weapon against such a large foe, but it was all he had.  Dean climbed to his feet and held the knife at the ready.  If he was lucky he’d get one good shot in. 

The zombie swung at Dean. He was having trouble coordinating his limbs.  It was his strength that made him dangerous.  If Dean could just manage to duck past him, maybe he’d have a chance.

“Billy!”

Dean jumped and turned to look at the voice shouting practically in his ear and lost the upper hand.  Billy grabbed the wrist holding the knife, and then turned and pulled Dean against his chest.  Dean fought to keep possession of the knife but was no match against the zombie’s superior strength.

Winifred shouted orders as she hovered above the sidewalk outside the cemetery on her broom.  “Billy!  Listen to me!  Kill him if you must, just bring me that boy.  That Sam!”

Dean struggled harder, but the zombie pinned both of Dean’s hands with his left arm.  The knife in Billy’s right hand came closer and closer to Dean’s face.

“And put some wiggle in it you putrid, festering bag of bones!”

The knife’s trajectory changed as Billy put the blade up against the stitches on his lips.  One by one he cut through the bindings as Winifred harangued him.

“Don’t dawdle!  Come along now!  Kill him…do it now!”

Billy’s mouth popped open with a wheeze and his jaw creaked and snapped.  Ancient moths flew out of an unexpected escape hatch.  Dean’s eyes watered and he coughed at the stench.

“Wench!”

Dean blinked.  Winifred gasped.

“Trollop!”

Winifred’s jaw dropped in shock.

“You buck-toothed, mealy mouthed, firefly from Hell!”

Winifred shrieked at the insults.

Billy leaned in closer to confide, “I’ve waited centuries to say that.”

“Say what you want,” Dean coughed, “Just don’t breathe on me.”

Dean didn’t know the reason, maybe this close to dawn Winifred’s spell lost its potency, but suddenly they seemed to have a zombie on their side.  It wasn’t that much stranger than a talking cat, was it?

“I killed you once, I can kill you again!” Winifred threatened.  Billy just waved her off and pointed Dean in the direction the others had run.

Stumbling over the uneven ground, Dean pushed forward.  Dawn - _real_ dawn - had to be soon.  They just needed to hold out a little longer. 

Under a stand of trees near the bottom of a small hill by Billy’s recently disturbed grave, Sam and Allison were waiting.  Both had armed themselves with large branches.

“Dean! Look out!”  Allison and Sam came running at them. 

Dean held up his hand in a warding off gesture.  “Whoa! Whoa!”  He turned toward Billy.  “He’s a good zombie.”

Allison looked suspicious, but Sam was much more flexible in his thinking.  “Hey Billy!”  And just like that, they were a band of five.

“Come on,” Binx urged, “We’ll have to hold them off until dawn.”

Dean surveyed the territory.  The trees overhead would impede the witches’ flight but aside from ducking behind large headstones there weren’t many places to take cover.  What concerned Dean was that Sam was clearly Winifred’s target and there was no good place to hide him.  Dean toed the soft, brown dirt of Butcherson’s grave thoughtfully.  If the witches couldn’t step foot _on_ hallowed ground they certainly couldn’t go _in_ it.  But Sam could.

“You’ve got to take cover, Sam.”  Dean stated.

Sam looked down into the empty grave with a frown.  He looked at Dean with a raised eyebrow and gave a heavy sigh.

“It’s not so bad,” Billy added helpfully.

“Just until the sun comes up, Sammy.  No time at all.”

“’kay.” Sam agreed.  He held out his hand to Dean who grasped his wrist and lowered Sam into the grave.  Then Dean passed him the branch he was brandishing earlier.

Satisfied that Sam was squared away, Dean knelt and opened the bag of supplies.  He handed a container of salt to Allison who quickly drew a circle around the grave where Sam was standing.  He took out a baseball bat for himself and took a few warm-up swings.  Binx perched on the top of Billy’s headstone and they all looked to the sky.

“Here they come!” Binx cried.  “Billy, guard Sam!  Dean and Allison, spread out!”

Dean was so well trained that he never questioned following orders from a talking cat.  Moving to an area that was slightly clearer gave Dean more room to work, although it would also give the witches greater access.  Dean didn’t care if they all came at him; as long at they were focused on him they weren’t focused on Sam.

With an angry growl, Winifred zeroed in on Dean.  “For the last time, prepare to meet thy doom!”

Dean took a swing with the bat, but the witch easily evaded it. 

“I’ve had enough of you,” she snarled.

“Oh sister, not nearly enough as I’ve had of you,” Dean retorted.  He swung again but this time Winifred caught the bat in a surprisingly strong grip.  She pulled the bat out of Dean’s grasp and tossed it aside.  Then she leaned forward and came at him on her broom determined to run him down. 

Dean sprinted away from the area where Sam was stationed but he wasn’t fast enough to evade Winifred on her broom.  She managed to grab the back of his sweatshirt and pull him off of his feet until she lost her grip on his shirt and he fell to the ground.  The wind was knocked right out of him.

Dean forced himself to breathe and climb back to his feet, but he knew he was too moving too slowly.  By the time he turned around Allison had run out of salt and was having trouble dodging Sarah’s aerial attacks.  Winifred had circled around and was focused on taunting Billy.  Without warning she dove toward him, but at the last second she pulled her broom up sharply and cleanly knocked his head right off of his neck.

Sam yelled in alarm as Billy fell to his knees searching for his missing head.  Dean headed back toward the grave and yelled at Sam to leave it alone because he knew that Billy would be fine for a while without his head; it hadn’t seemed to stop him before when Dean knocked his gourd off.  But Sam didn’t know what Dean did, and since the zombie was fighting on their side, Sam felt compelled to help him.

It was like a nightmare.  Dean could see Sam pull himself out of Billy’s grave to retrieve the zombie’s head from where it landed after rolling away.  He tried to yell for Sam to get back inside the circle, but his lungs had no power.  Sam was so focused on getting the head back to Billy that he wasn’t watching the sky.  He placed the lost head in the zombie’s hands and stood up to head back toward the grave.  That’s when Winifred swooped in and claimed her prize.

“Dean!” Sam cried in alarm.

“Sam!”  Dean scrambled over fallen logs and broken headstones, but all that was there upon his arrival was Billy’s empty grave.

Winifred swung around in a lazy circle.  “Say bye-bye, big brother!”  She halted the broom’s flight about 25 feet up in the air.  Sam’s balance was precarious, though Winifred was careful to hold on to her precious cargo.

“All right you little brat.”  From within a pocket of her voluminous robe Winifred pulled out a vial of the noxious green potion she had spent the night trying to brew.  Sam gave up a valuable handhold on the broom in order to clamp his hand over his mouth.

Winifred pulled the stopper out of the vial with her teeth and struggled to pull Sam’s hand free of his mouth.  “Drink it!  Drink it you vile child!”

“Hang on, Sam!” Binx shouted.  Nimbly, Binx climbed a nearby tree leaping from branch to branch until he matched the height of Winifred’s broom. 

Watching Sam and the witch struggle at that height made Dean nauseous.  Suddenly Binx leapt on Winifred’s back from behind.  Clawing and scratching he added to the mid-air fight.  Winifred lost hold of the potion.  Dean scrambled to catch it.  With an angry yell, Winifred reached over her shoulder, dislodged Binx and threw him down to the ground.

“Give me that vial!” Winifred demanded.

“Put him down, or I’ll smash it!” Dean yelled in return.

Winifred locked an arm around Sam’s throat and pushed him off-balance on the broom.  “Smash it, and he dies!” 

Everything was suspended for a horrible, endless moment.  There was no safety for Sam either way – smashing the vial or giving it back would both result in his death – so Dean really had no other options.

Locking eyes with Winifred, Dean brought the potion to his lips and swallowed it in one gulp.  “Dean! No!” Sam yelled.

Dean never looked away from the witch.  “Now you have no choice.  You have to take me.”

Winifred brought the broom down to ground level slowly, perhaps frightened about spooking Dean if anything happened to Sam; she didn’t have enough time to chase him down.  She hovered close enough to speak to Dean but still leave Sam’s legs dangling without touching the ground.

“What a fool to give up thy life for thy brother’s.”

Dean’s gaze shifted to Sam’s worried, frightened face.  He was all big eyes and denial; it was all happening too fast for him to comprehend.  Dean wished he had the time to explain that it was really okay; that he was doing exactly what he needed to do.  Sam reached out his hand to Dean, and Dean raised his, ready to grasp it in his – one last bit of contact before they were done. 

But Winifred grew impatient with the reward so close at hand.  Unceremoniously she gave Sam a shove.  Dean couldn’t help but watch the fall.  Sam fell the last few feet to the ground and Dean was relieved when he rolled as his feet made contact.  Winifred reached forward and grabbed Dean’s shirt with both hands, not needing anything other than innate magic to remain seated on her broom, and swiftly rose into the air.

Sam was in motion beneath them immediately, calling “Dean!” but they were already out of reach.  Allison and Billy gathered around Sam, but there was nothing they could do but watch.

Dean might have swallowed the potion voluntarily, and then stood quietly as a sacrificial lamb until Sam’s feet hit the ground, but he had no intention of allowing that bitch of a witch to suck the life out of his body without putting up a hell of a fight.   Winifred pulled Dean closer and leaned in as though to kiss him; instead she breathed in deeply and he could feel a weakness spread throughout his body.  With his left hand holding onto the broom he used his right hand to grab the witch’s chin and push it away.  She was surprised by the resistance and lost her grip on him.

Dean felt himself slipping and made the mistake of looking down.  It was a hell of a long way to fall.  Panic gave him power and he grasped the broom’s handle with both hands.  Winifred leaned forward again and grabbed him with both hands.  Even the small gulps of his energy that Winifred was able to take were draining Dean tremendously.  He managed to give her another shove and was surprisingly able to throw her far off balance.  She pin-wheeled her arms in order to keep her seat while she called out in alarm to her sisters, “Hallowed ground!  Hallowed ground! Sisters!”

Winifred regained her stability and leaned forward once again.  “I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget!” she threatened.

Dean was unable to do much more than hang on and try to wiggle around making it harder for Winifred to get a good grip on him.  There was screaming from the other sisters and noise on the ground, but Dean couldn’t see what the others were doing to cause the commotion.  Then, out of nowhere, the other Sanderson sisters whizzed by in uncontrolled flight.  Winifred sat up, distracted and Dean managed to shake the broom so hard that they both fell off.

It was probably lucky that Dean fell through a tree and had some branches to break his fall, but it sure didn’t feel lucky on the way down.  He landed on his back on a relatively soft patch of dirt and counted himself fortunate that he didn’t land on a headstone.  It seemed like getting the wind knocked out of him was a running theme for the night.

Dean struggled to get to his feet, but the best he could manage was to wave his hands weakly in front of his face.  His hands, like the rest of him, were glowing softly.  It was weird to be able to see his life-force on the outside; he distantly wondered how long it would last. 

A sound to his left got Dean’s attention.  He was abruptly reminded that he was not the only one to fall from the witch’s broom.

With a menacing growl Winifred pounced like an angry panther.  Dean tried to roll away from her but he was too weak to get very far.  Winifred, fueled by anger and the energy she had stolen from Dean, had no trouble picking him up off of the ground and holding him aloft.  Eagerly she sucked the life-force from his body.  Dean struggled in her grasp, but knew he didn’t have the strength to pull away.

Abruptly, Winifred blinked and looked down.  Dean looked down as well.  It looked like there was steam rising from Winifred’s boots.  She shifted her weight and looked down again.  The steam was growing thicker. Then over Winifred’s shoulder, just brushing the crest of an eastern hill, Dean could see the arc of the sun peeking above the horizon.  It was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

“Hallowed ground…hallowed ground…” Winifred muttered.

Dean looked down again and saw that Winifred’s boots and legs had begun to turn to stone.  Rapidly as the steam rose from the ground it transformed the witch’s body from flesh to rock.  Frantically Dean pulled against Winifred’s hold.  He was suddenly overtaken by the terrifying thought that if he didn’t break free before the transformation was finished, he would be turned to stone as well.

Dean watched in horror as the transformation progressed.  He had no leverage and was too weak to pull himself free.  Suddenly, there was an arm around his waist.  Sam yanked him backwards with all of his might and the two of them fell to the ground – flesh and bone, not stone.

Above them, Sarah and Mary were airborne.  But as the light of the true dawn touched them they exploded into dust.  Sam took one look at the statue of Winifred and then threw himself at Dean.  He curled himself around Dean’s shoulders and head while covering his own with his arms.  Winifred’s explosion was more gravel and less dust than her sisters, but Dean didn’t mind listening to every last bit of rock hit the earth.

When Sam considered the coast to be clear he pulled away from Dean.  Dean lay on his back, looked at the morning sky and took a deep breath.  Sam hovered nervously to his left.

“Dean?  You okay?”

Dean rolled until he was facing Sam.  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You saved my life,” Sam whispered.

Dean smiled tiredly. “That’s what big brothers do.”

Sam reached out tentatively and rested his hand on Dean’s chest.  “Thanks.”

Before Dean could respond, Sam was all the way in his space and wrapped his skinny arms around Dean in a tight hug.  Dean reached his hand up to grab the back of Sam’s head and push it into his shoulder.  “Welcome.”

Sam alive and well in his arms made Dean feel about a million times better, or at least well enough to get to his feet.  Dean walked with his arm slung around Sam’s shoulders back to where Allison was watching Billy climb back into his grave.  It was totally weird – a monster putting himself to bed.

With Allison nearby to hold Dean up, Sam went looking for Binx.  It didn’t take him long to find the body of the cat lying broken where Winifred had thrown him.

“Oh no…” Sam’s breath was punched out of his gut.  “He’s not…he can’t…”

Allison knelt and gently stroked the cat’s silky head with tears in her eyes.  “He’s gone Sam.”

“But the spell…” he pleaded.

“It must’ve been broken when the witches were destroyed.” Dean explained.

Sam bowed his head in grief.

“Don’t grieve for me, Sam.”  Dean turned to look at the familiar voice coming from a new source.  The transparent form of the boy walking toward them wore the clothing of an early American colonist.  “The witches are dead.  My soul is finally free!”

Sam stood and joined Dean.  Binx took them all in with his gaze.  “You freed me.” He looked at them all and touched his right hand to his heart.  “Thank you.”

Then Thackery grinned sardonically.  “Hey Dean…will you tell Max thanks for lighting the candle?”

Dean let out a soft chuckle and nodded.

“Thackery!  Thackery Binx!”  Another ghostly figure appeared darting among the trees of the cemetery.

Binx’s face lit up.  “It’s Emily!”

Binx made his way to where Emily waited near the cemetery gates.  She reached up her small hand to take his and demanded in a way only a little sister can, “Thackery Binx!  What took thee so long?”

“I had to wait 300 years for a virgin to light a candle…” he explained as they faded away walking into the rising sun.

Dean took a deep breath.  It was a great relief to know that Binx was at rest and that they wouldn’t have to salt and burn his restless ass at some point.  With his arm again around Sam’s shoulders and Allison’s hand in his, Dean headed their rag-tag group toward home.  They had a lot of explaining to do and it wasn’t something you could wave away with a wand and some hocus-pocus.


End file.
